


loathing, unadulterated loathing

by shinealightonme



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Insecurity, Roommates, oh my god they were roommates, unromantic but like in a fluffy way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: The thing no one tells Tahani about Wicked: it's a love story.





	loathing, unadulterated loathing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cakemage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakemage/gifts).



> Hi cakemage! I don't know if you were looking for AUs or not, but I had a lot of fun writing this treat and I hope you have fun reading it :D

When Kamilah goes off to study at the Sorbonne -- the _first_ time Kamilah goes off to study at the Sorbonne, when she's fifteen, after she's finished at Oxford -- their mother weeps about being so far away from her child, and their father buys two Parisian townhouses. One for Kamilah, and one for them to stay in when they visit Kamilah.

When Tahani goes to America for university, she has to call the car service to take her to the airport. Everyone else has forgotten she's leaving. 

"I'll write!" she promises, a single Louis Vuitton bag clutched in her arms -- she'd let the driver carry the rest of her things, but she's a modern, self-sufficient woman off to make her own way in the world. She can carry a piece of luggage.

"Yes, I imagine you'll have to write a lot of papers," her father says, not peeking out from behind his newspaper.

Tahani is still cringing as she boards her first-class trans-Atlantic flight in her airiest sundress and flawless, matching, understated earring and necklace set.

-

The room she's granted proves to be a small and rather dingy chamber; the size will take some getting used to, but the decor she can do something about. She decorates her side of the room to her taste, hoping the entire time that her roommate won't have her heart set on a clashing color scheme. Although surely, if she were, she would be persuaded the moment she saw what Tahani had done with the place.

Except the day creeps into afternoon and then night, with no sign of her roommate. And the more Tahani looks around the room, the more she reasons that, after all, her side is starting to look a little cluttered, and she's doing such a professional, polished job, surely it would only be a gift to her roommate if she were to expand her ornamental motif --

By the time night has fallen, the entire room has been made over in Tahani's image, and she's started to convince herself that perhaps she hasn't been assigned a roommate. She had written a personal statement when she applied to the university, after all. Perhaps they had divined that she would flourish better on her own, or that she could make better use of the extra space than any of her peers.

Tahani settles in to bed that night feeling quite proud with herself and optimistic about her future.

It's a feeling that vanishes abruptly when she's awoken to the sound of a blonde girl she's never before met saying "why is Martha Stewart running a museum out of my dorm room" and then becoming violently ill over Tahani's heirloom quilt.

-

"What the hell did you do to my side of the room?"

Tahani knows precisely three things about her roommate: her name is Eleanor, she is devoid of all gratitude and perhaps a soul, and she is capable of sleeping through the sounds of someone stripping soiled bedding, storming out in a well-bred huff, and returning after an exhausting and humiliating trip to the laundry room to remake her bed as loudly as one can.

Also that, even with bedhead, rumpled clothing, and the worst breath of anyone not yet deceased, she doesn't have the decency to look bad.

"I was only trying to make the room look nice," Tahani snips. This much is true. "I thought it would look more welcoming this way." This much is a bit of a stretch, but she does not feel up to admitting that she had been greedy with their shared space.

"It doesn't. It's like living in a furniture store showroom."

Tahani bristles. No showroom could possibly match her sophistication. "I suppose you'd prefer to live in a racetrack dumpster, is that so?"

"I'm just trying to feel comfortable in my own home," Eleanor says. "Which is impossible with these fucking scarves draped all over everything." She grabs the edge of one of Tahani's wall hangings and rips it clean off its hook.

"Ah!" Tahani inhales sharply. " _Don't_ put your paws on my things. If you want them gone so badly, I shall take them down."

Eleanor has no reaction to that, save to pat her stomach. "You do that. I'm going to chase last night's hangover with some grease. Point me toward the dining hall?"

"Find it for yourself!"

She shrugs. "Your loss, hot stuff." She strides out of the room, still in her pajamas.

-

Either Eleanor's manner improves when she's no longer intoxicated and hungry, or else Tahani finds her more tolerable after she's showered and dressed. By nightfall when Tahani returns to the room, after a day spent exploring the campus and simmering, Eleanor beams as though she's genuinely pleased to see her.

Which, obviously she should be; it's only Tahani who has any reason to feel disgruntled. But she can be the bigger person and accept Eleanor's contrite apology.

"Roomie!" Tahani is oddly touched by this friendly moniker, until she realizes that Eleanor may simply have forgotten her name. "There you are. I was hoping you would come back so we could go out together."

"Go out?"

"There's a party at one of the frats. We could go! Meet some people, play dumb drinking games. Fun college bonding stuff."

It doesn't strike her as her kind of fun, but Eleanor is clearly trying. And it makes Tahani feel the cultural ambassador.

"All right," and she sails on through getting made up for an evening's casual socializing and walking through the campus just fine.

Then they get through the door of the frat and the smile drops off Eleanor's face like a souffle collapsing in the heat.

"Ugh, at least that worked."

"What...worked?"

"Parties like this always have a line." Eleanor grabs a drink out of the hand of a passing boy, who is rather too timid and weak-chinned to be considered a man. She takes a long sip. "Two hot chicks get in faster than one hot chick."

Tahani's voice turns frosty. "So I was your ticket in, is that it?"

"Sure," but Eleanor already sounds distracted. She's looking around the room, craning her neck to see over the heads of people who are taller than her -- which is everyone, Tahani thinks vengefully. Most women of Eleanor's stature wouldn't dare attend a party in less than a three-inch heel, and here she is in flats and a button up. "Ooh. That one."

"What?" Tahani asks, more in response to Eleanor shoving the half-full plastic cup at her than at anything Eleanor has said.

"That one." Eleanor nods toward the corner of the room. "Dumb jock in the stupid shirt," and as far as Tahani can tell she's just described half the boys in the room. "I'm gonna make out with him. Dumb jocks are my type."

"Yes, I imagine so," Tahani says. "Like calling to like."

"Hey, I am not a _jock_ ," but she makes no challenge to the claim of being dumb. "I defy categorization."

"Oh, you marvelous creature. You just said a six syllable word, you must be exhausted."

Eleanor sticks her tongue out -- a bit of juvenalia Tahani has not indulged in since she was three -- and disappears into the crowd.

Tahani leaves the frat not much later. It's a faux pas to depart an event so soon after arriving. On the other hand, this does not look like the crowd to appreciate proper party etiquette.

She's fast asleep when a crowd barges into her room, and for a moment she thinks it's just a horrid nightmare, regurgitating the events of last night.

"All of you!" she demands in her firmest voice, the one that gets the William and Kate's children to fall straight in line every time. The riffraff overflow of a frat party are no match. "Out! At once!"

One gentleman in a shirt with the sleeves ripped off of it does lodge a weak protest: "We heard this is where the after party's at."

"Clearly you misunderstood."

"But we have a key."

Tahani snatches the key out of his hand with all of the chilly English condescension of someone who isn't wearing pajamas. " _Out._ "

-

Classes begin. Tahani's life becomes too busy to worry about one woman, even if the woman in question does live with her and has a history of giving her room key out to strangers. It's all the more reason to keep her life as active and engaging as possible. Not that that's any challenge for her.

She attends a club recruiting event soon after classes start, and ends up speaking at length to the handsome man at the theater department booth. Granted, he's an American stage actor, so she's not expecting anything to come of a little flirtation. But that only makes it more fun, flirting without the worry of making a man fall in love with her and all of the trouble that would mean when he inevitably broke his heart over her.

"The theater department's always looking for people to help out," he tells her, when she says how she adores the theater. "With sets, stage hands, costumes, that sort of thing."

"I have quite an eye for fashion." Tahani smiles. "As you may have noticed."

The theater department is staging Wicked this semester. It isn't exactly a classic masterpiece like the Gilbert and Sullivan she was raised on, nor the eminently timely modern musicals that she likes to discuss with her good friend Daveed, but it strikes her as a worthy use of her talents.

There are several clubs looking for volunteers for charitable causes. Of course, Tahani is excellent at volunteering, but she really does more good in managerial positions where she can inspire and not get dirty.

Still, one catches her eye. A group that picks up trash along the beach; the woman handing out fliers is explaining apologetically as Tahani walks by that they usually have to leave campus as early as seven in the morning on trash pick up days.

"Yes, I'd like to sign up," Tahani says. "And you'll come collect me from my room at seven? Excellent. Just make sure you knock loudly, I meditate in the mornings. Yes, my name is Eleanor..."

-

Eleanor does not connect Tahani to the early morning weekend visit. Possibly because they are so seldom in the room and conscious at the same time; Eleanor is still asleep when Tahani leaves the room at six o'clock to begin her morning beauty regimen, and Tahani makes sure to have her sleep mask on and her ear plugs in before the bars close at night and force Eleanor's return.

The next time Tahani sees Eleanor conscious is in the book store, purchasing textbooks -- even though it's already two weeks into the semester and any serious scholar would already have obtained the books. Tahani had purchased hers before she'd even arrived at university. She was only in the bookstore to pick up a copy of her honorary aunt Madeleine's latest book, after hearing that it was on the syllabus for several of the political science classes that year.

She was curious about what books Eleanor could be purchasing. To the best of her knowledge, there were no classes featuring picture books.

She follows Eleanor around at a distance, watches as she picks up her books like she knows what she's looking for, a perfectly ordinary and competent university student -- 

\-- and then she places the books on the counter where they have to check their bags to prevent shoplifting, before walking back into the store. Had she forgotten something?

As Tahani watches, and the boy working the bag check looks both ways -- painfully obvious in his chicanery -- and sticks the whole stack of Eleanor's books into a bag that Tahani knows intimately. No matter how many times she returns it to Eleanor's desk chair, the satchel always appears back on her desk chair by the end of the day.

Eleanor, meanwhile, has gone up to the register with a single slim volume -- some professor _has_ assigned picture books to their students -- pays for it, and collects her backpack, newly engorged, from the kid at the counter.

Tahani replaces the book she has long since abandoned perusing and follows Eleanor out of the store.

"You stole these!" she hisses at Eleanor.

"What are you, stalking me? Because we live together, if you want in on this -- " Eleanor gestures enthusiastically at her body " -- you really don't have to work that hard."

"I _saw_ you, quite on accident I might add. It would have been hard to miss your little sleight-of-hand when your accomplice was winking at you the entire time."

Eleanor sighs. "Yeah, Jason's not the sneakiest guy in the world, but what's a girl to do."

"Pay for her textbooks like a proper member of society."

"Textbooks are notoriously marked up. I'm like Robin Hood, robbing the rich to give to the hood." A look of insight crosses her face. "Wait, is that why he's called Robbin' Hood -- "

Tahani has debated child prodigies, introduced Nobel winners, toasted duchesses. Tahani is never _speechless_. That she walks off without another word is just a measure of how affronted she is.

-

It's impossible to avoid the room forever, particularly as the school year picks up. While there's more social obligations and academic challenges than ever making demands on her time, the highest performance in all things requires a home base where Tahani can prepare.

She does her best to keep a regular schedule, though, on the reasoning that Eleanor can plan her time in the room around it.

Eleanor shows no signs of planning her time, or planning anything else for the matter.

"Pardon me." There's a white-haired, bow-tied man in the room; Tahani assumes that he must be some university official. "I wasn't aware there'd be..." she trails off, realizing simultaneously that she doesn't know why a university official would be in her room, that the bow-tied man in question looks surprised and guilty, that Eleanor is clearly hiding something behind her back, and that the room smells strongly of marijuana.

"I was just leaving," he says, too chipper. "Eleanor, I'll see you on Wednesday," and he beats a hasty retreat around Tahani.

"You were partaking in drugs with a senior citizen?" She cannot muster disapproval, only surprise.

"Well, yeah, he's my dealer, I was going to let him have a hit. That's just polite."

"How did you find a septuagenarian drug dealer"

"He's my professor, the chill one. It was pretty obvious he'd have a hook up."

Tahani finds she actually knows which professor Eleanor is talking about; Eleanor's stories about her day are always...memorable, to say the least. "And he's taking drugs with his students? That hardly seems fitting behavior for a professor of ethics."

"Ethics?" Eleanor snorts. "No, he's my economics professor."

"When did you enroll in economics?" Now Tahani has an entirely new sector of campus to avoid. "As I recall you were in the disgracefully simple science class -- "

" -- rocks for jocks," Eleanor agrees. "I like my men like I like my geological samples, _cut_ \-- "

" -- and art history -- "

" -- wanna see them Renaissance titties -- "

" -- and psychology, much as the thought of you tampering with a person's psyche terrifies me -- "

" -- hey, _rude_ , maybe I just want to know how to make people do things for me -- "

" -- and ethical philosophy." Which you _desperately need_ , but she doesn't say that part.

"Funny story. I read my map wrong and I kind of went to the wrong class first week. Economics, ethics, pretty similar, right?"

"There are entire schools of thought just to disprove that claim." Tahani frowns. Surely she wasn't wrong. A glance at the bookshelf above Eleanor's desk vindicates her. "If you aren't attending the ethics class then why do you have the textbook?"

"Oh, I'm attending," Eleanor says. "The TA's a jacked nerd. Jacked nerds are my type."

"I hardly imagine he'd be impressed with a woman who lies to him!"

Eleanor rolls her eyes. "Please. Guys like it when you lie to them." She produces a pipe from out behind her back again. "Want a hit?"

"I certainly do not!"

"You're wound too tight, babe," Eleanor says, as thought _she_ has any standing to criticize Tahani's life, and inhales enormously.

-

It was only a matter of time, with Eleanor's habits, before she was unable to return to the room under her own power. When Tahani opens the door to three strangers holding her roommate aloft, two months into the semester, she's only surprised it took so long.

"Yes, you're in the right place, bring her in." Perhaps picking up on her mood, Eleanor's associates drop her on the bed and quickly depart, without so much as a wish for Tahani to have a good night.

She would _love_ to leave Eleanor to her fate and return to her nighttime reading, but her hostess obligations won't allow her to let someone suffer while in her house, even if her house is one beige-colored bedroom and the person in question is not so much a guest as a pest. She sighs and shifts Eleanor so she will not be lying unceremoniously twisted up on her face.

Eleanor opens her eyes and jolts upright. "I wasn't anywhere near -- " She blinks. "Oh, shit, I thought I'd been caught. Man, it bums me out that our room could pass as the dean's home office."

Tahani might otherwise take issue with Eleanor's assessment of her decor -- which _certainly_ bears no resemblance to a school employee's work space -- but Eleanor seems even less able than usual to engage in mental sparring. "Don't tell me what you were up to," she says instead, only addressing the first part of Eleanor's comment. "I don't want to know."

"Psh, I wasn't going to tell you." Eleanor falls onto her bed and paws fruitlessly at her shoes, which are caked with mud. "The fewer people know the fewer chances I can get kicked out."

Tahani tires of watching her struggle, knocking more and more dirt off her shoes and onto the floor in the process. She crouches down and pulls the shoes off. "Frankly, I am amazed you were accepted into this university at all. It cannot be long before the matter is rectified."

"I mean, 'accepted'." Eleanor flops onto the bed without so much as a 'thank you' and throws an arm over her face. She mumbles through it, "that's such a vague word."

"No, it isn't. It is clear and strong and unambiguous, like my love for Gilbert and Sullivan."

"Look, _a_ Eleanor Shellstrop was accepted. Some chick wrote this 'beautiful' and 'moving' personal statement, and I don't know what it said but I was high as _balls_ when I wrote mine so I know it wasn't beautiful. But if they got me confused with someone just because we have the same name, that's their fault."

Tahani is on the verge of arguing, but Eleanor keeps talking.

"And if this other Eleanor is so great, then she must have gotten in somewhere else. She doesn't need this. I do. I should get to have one good thing all to myself, right?"

Tahani swallows.

"You're going to have a headache tomorrow if you don't take something" are the words that come out of her mouth.

Eleanor snores. She's already asleep.

Tahani turns off the lights and goes to work in the dorm lounge instead.

-

Tahani gets swept up in the dress rehearsals for Wicked. Her designs and implementation were flawless, of course, but no strategy survives first contact with the enemy and adjustments must be made.

Between the upcoming Wicked première and the increasing academic pressure -- _not_ more than she can handle, of course -- she's so busy she hardly realizes that she hasn't been around her room to be harassed by Eleanor, until she turns around at the Wicked cast party and nearly runs over her. That's the only excuse she has for lacking her customary grace. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"This goth chick in my art history seminar invited me," Eleanor says. Tahani supposes she means the woman who played Nessarose. Tahani had never liked her anyway. "Goth chicks are my type."

" _Everyone_ is your type," Tahani snaps. "You have literally no standards!"

Eleanor beams at her. "See, now you get it! Man, figures you'd be here. You're _such_ a Galinda."

Tahani allows herself to preen at that assessment. "Why, yes, thank you."

"Uh, you realize that makes _me_ the hero and _you_ the bad guy."

"So you're saying that you relate to the cackling mad woman who never showers."

Eleanor walks away without another word. Tahani is oddly proud of her for pulling off such a flawless snub. She hadn't thought Eleanor had the discipline for it.

-

Tahani takes impeccable notes, the ability to listen and retain information so you can use it at precisely the right moment being an essential skill to anything worth doing, from diplomacy to academia to warfare. So it stands to reason that plenty of her fellow students are interested in studying with her.

And if several of those students are attractive men, well, she might as well let them buy her a coffee while they study.

Eleanor prefers to shotgun Red Bulls -- a terminology that Tahani only knows because of Eleanor, and which she had with horror assumed involved an actual firearm, and then with more horror realized was somehow worse -- so there's no reason for Eleanor to be looking over at Tahani from across the coffee shop like she's the one who's doing something distasteful.

Eleanor comes over after Tahani's latest study partner leaves and sits in the abandoned chair without being invited to.

"What are you doing, interviewing boyfriends?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Uh-huh. Every time I come in here, you're talking to some new piece of beefcake."

"You're in no position to tell me I date too many men. You forgot your last paramour's name even as you were kicking him out of the room."

"It's not how many. It's the way you look at them like you're calculating if you'll let them get to second base. That's creepy. Especially since you never let them."

"I suppose I should just have an open casting call for the part, rather than trying to find the best suited man."

"Have you ever heard of compulsive heterosexuality?"

"Are you implying that attraction to men is some kind of disease?"

Eleanor snorts. "It is the the way you do it," and she drinks the rest of Tahani's coffee.

-

There's a knock on the door, loud and officious, in the middle of the afternoon.

"I'm not here," Eleanor hisses, before pulling the blanket up over her head. It's an effective hiding place. Given that she never makes her bed and it's full of crisps bags and other people's clothes, it isn't possible to tell there's a body in there.

Tahani opens the door. "Hello, Vicki!" She doesn't have much respect for their RA and her construction paper holiday decorations, but there's no reason to let any ill-feelings show.

"Tahani, hi." Vicki smiles at her falsely. She is not so good at hiding her true thoughts as Tahani is. Most people aren't as good at most things as Tahani is. "Is Eleanor in?"

"I can't possibly speak for Eleanor," Tahani says, rather pleased with herself for that clever wording.

"Let he know that I'm looking for her. Okay?"

"I will be sure she gets the message."

Once Tahani shuts the door, Eleanor pops back up, looking as much a hunted animal as any person chewing on a piece of red licorice can look.

"I don't suppose I want to know what you've done to anger our resident adviser," Tahani says. "But do I _need_ to know?"

"She's just out to get me because I killed her plants."

Tahani has been in that room. "Her...plastic...plants." Which was another point against Vicki: who couldn't manage the simple task of keeping plants alive? Or worse, could but chose plastic instead?

"Yeah," Eleanor says slowly. "It turns out that was a bad place to hide a joint? How was I supposed to know they'd melt. The labels on the pots say they're inflammable."

"Inflammable means flammable."

Eleanor looks, astoundingly, as offended as Tahani has ever seen her. "Why are those _two different words?_ "

She throws a pillow at Tahani a moment later, but it is still entirely worth it for how hard Tahani laughs.

-

Vicki comes by the room again the next day.

"Eleanor's not in."

"Oh, I know," Vicki says. "The crew team is holding a bathing suit car wash, she won't be back for hours. I want to talk to you."

"I'm happy to entertain," Tahani says, which is at least true in a general sense. "What brings you by?"

"I want to destroy Eleanor."

This falls rather outside the bounds of _entertaining_. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I want. To destroy. Eleanor."

She cannot resist the urge to ask, "Is this about your plants?"

"It's about the fact that she's a lazy, messy, rude slob who sabotages every floor event she comes near and got melted plastic all over my four hundred dollar textbooks!"

"So," Tahani waits a beat. "It is about the plants."

Vicki shuts her eyes and breathes deeply. "You're a reasonable person, Tahani. Help me help you."

"I've found that the people who say that are generally more interested in the 'help me' part than the 'help you'."

"Help me get her expelled," Vicki says, "and I'll help you get your own room."

"I will not be bought so cheaply!" Tahani considers. "I could really have my own room?"

"The school would try to shove another student in here if your roommate moved out. But they won't do it if I say you need the room to yourself."

"I don't suppose you could do anything about the paint in here," Tahani says, before it occurs to her what she is saying. "No! I will not scheme and sabotage like some kind of Shakespearean villain or reality show housewife. I stand pure of heart and hardened of resolve."

Vicki crosses her arms. "Hard-headed, more like it. Your funeral." She storms out.

-

Tahani goes to class that afternoon rattled, comes back after dinner expecting to have the room to herself, a much needed respite after a strange day; it's a Thursday night, and Eleanor ought to be out drinking.

As though oblivious to simple facts like the passage of time, Eleanor is in their room and greets her with a smile. "Hey, roomie."

"Did you need the space?" Tahani drops her bag on the ground and collapses onto her bed. "Because I'm exhausted, if you could reschedule your carnal activities -- "

"Oh my god, the way you say schedule is obnoxious," Eleanor says, as quick as a reflex. "But, uh, I mean. I thought we could have some girl time. Yay."

"Some _what_?"

"Girl time! You know, doing each other's hair...watching sad movies...painting our...toenails?"

Tahani peers down at her feet through her peep toe shoes. "Has my pedicure chipped?"

Eleanor sighs explosively. "That's not the point. It's just. An activity. To do together. Bonding time. You have a sister, don't you know about girl time?"

"My sister has certainly never painted my toenails."

"Okay, so we can just eat ice cream and gossip."

"Why do I need my toenails painted in order to eat ice cream?"

"Forget the toenails!" Eleanor shouts, and grabs at her hair in frustration. "You know what, this is what I get for trying to be fancy about it."

Before Tahani can ask when in her life Eleanor had ever been 'fancy,' she crosses the room and kisses Tahani right on the mouth.

The first shocked thought that crosses her mind is that it's probably for the best she's the one sitting and Eleanor is the one standing, and not the other way around, because she would have to stoop to a truly ludicrous and non-ergonomic degree.

The second thought is that Eleanor doesn't taste at all of beer or weed or Cool Ranch, which can be no real flavor on earth. Rather, she tastes of something Tahani can't define, except that it's sweet and warm and refreshing.

The third thought that occurs to her is that it is utterly unacceptable that Eleanor is standing so far away.

Tahani reaches out blindly until her fingertips find the soft fabric of Eleanor's plaid shirt, and then she curls her fingers and pulls Eleanor closer.

A vice suddenly becomes a virtue -- Eleanor has always taken the slightest opening as an invitation to step far over the line, and she doesn't fail Tahani on this occasion. She steps closer and keeps going, climbs onto Tahani's lap, a knee coming to rest on either side of her and clamping tight. Her hands come up and run through Tahani's hair, nail just scratching at her scalp.

And all the while she's kissing Tahani with no discernible intent to stop.

There's a brief panic that Tahani doesn't know what to do from here, and an even briefer temptation to let Eleanor take the lead. Her various and sundry dalliances must have equipped her with the knowledge of what to do in these situations -- but Tahani rejects firmly the idea of ceding over all control to Eleanor, and even more firmly rejects all thoughts of Eleanor's other partners.

So, rather bravely in her mind, Tahani slides her hands from where they're balled up in the front of Eleanor's shirt, and runs them down and around to grip her arse.

Of course, Eleanor is always one to thwart Tahani's intentions. She groans and rolls her hips forward, rubbing against her.

Tahani has no better idea what to do now than she had a moment ago. She's gone hot all over, flustered and daring at the same time. She thinks she'd rather like to stick her hand up the back of Eleanor's shirt, and then she realizes she has done that already, without quite deciding _to_ do it, and that it was a thoroughly excellent idea. Eleanor must agree. She rubs herself against Tahani again, and her hands come down to the back of Tahani's dress.

Where they promptly fail to make any sort of gratifying progress.

"Is this a dress or a straight jacket?" Eleanor demands.

Tahani is more annoyed that Eleanor has stopped kissing her than she is annoyed about the insult to her clothing, but appearances must be maintained. "It's an Oscar de la Renta."

Eleanor laughs. It sounds like a snort. It sounds marvelous. "Of course it is, princess."

Tahani, feeling very bold and daring, leans in to kiss Eleanor, this time.

Eleanor runs her hands over her bare shoulder blades and kisses back before she pulls away.

"Give me a hand with this?"

"It's not so complicated. You ought to be perfectly capable."

"Come on babe, help me help you." Eleanor leans forward, clearly meaning to cajole Tahani with her lips.

Tahani leans back.

"What did you say?"

"Come on, let's get naked and weird."

Tahani stands firm. "You said 'help me help you.' Why _that_ turn of phrase, exactly?"

Eleanor's face shutters, perfectly emotionless, but for one split second she looks almost sorrowful.

"You were eavesdropping on me!" Tahani gasps.

"Next time you plot against someone," Eleanor says, her voice gone nasty and sharp, "maybe don't do it _in their own room_."

Tahani pushes her off, but Eleanor is already moving to stand. It isn't nearly as satisfying as Tahani had hoped.

"And you -- what, you decided to seduce me so I wouldn't help Vicki?"

"Hey, not _just_ because of that! You're also smoking hot."

"You truly have no moral compass."

"Oh, like you're _so great_ ," Eleanor snaps. "You were going to sell me out!"

"Of all of the lowly, cowardly -- "

"Yeah, yeah, I'm low, I'm a coward, at least I _know_ I'm trash. You act like you're so great and you were ready to fuck up my life just so you could have a single."

There's no defense to that.

There doesn't need to be. Tahani is utterly in the right.

Tahani doesn't need to defend herself.

She fluffs her skirts, gets as presentable as she can with only a second to spare, and leaves the room to go find Vicki.

-

"We've heard several disturbing allegations regarding your roommate," the dean tells her, first thing Friday morning. "If you could just shed some light on these -- "

"Of course." Tahani is brittle and worn through. She'd spent the entire morning sitting up in the library. Not her first all-nighter by any stretch, but she hadn't had the luxury of a face scrub or even a change of underwear. Truly she has experienced how, as they say, the other half lives. "I'm happy to provide any information that I can."

Vicki had coached her on what to say. Apparently she was only the last piece in an entire campaign against Eleanor Shellstrop, which feels an overreaction to the demise of some rather hideous house plants. Tahani did not care for the feeling that it gave her, to be working with Vicki.

But Eleanor had brought it on herself. Any ill feelings that came about because of this were Eleanor's fault. Tahani had no choice but to be here, to hand over the information that she hadn't provided her distasteful conspirator, the information that would truly destroy Eleanor and get her back for taking a kiss she never truly wanted.

_Eleanor doesn't belong here._

"As a matter of fact -- " Tahani starts.

There's a knock on the door. A woman in an unfortunate pair of glasses steps in and whispers something to the dean. He grimaces.

"I'm sorry, I have to deal with this. Please wait here, it will just be a moment."

"Of course!" Tahani forces a laugh, airy and pleasant. "Take your time!"

He certainly makes the most of her permission. It's several minutes before she gives in to boredom and nerves and starts poking around his desk.

Honestly, she's only looking if he hasn't got a comb or a fresh tie lying around somewhere, because he really ought to, and then in the top drawer of his desk she finds a file folder with the name _Eleanor Shellstrop_ on it.

She's already got it opened by the time she asks herself is she ought to be reading it, and at that point the matter is quite settled.

There's a transcript -- the grades are much to high to belong to Tahani's roommate. This must be the file of that other Eleanor, the one she was confused for. Letters of recommendation describing a high school senior who was highly motivated and independent and self-sufficient -- that gets half a laugh out of her before she thinks about Eleanor's capacity to get things done, whether it's making out with whoever captured her eye this week or convincing her classmates to do the parts of group assignments she doesn't care for or reading an enormous tome by Kant just to keep fooling the TA of a class she wasn't taking.

Tahani flips another page, uneasy.

 _I know I'm supposed to be telling you why I deserve to go to your college_ , the personal statement starts. _The truth is that I don't know that I do. There are students who are a lot more impressive than I am. I've never traveled the world or won an award or created a great work of art. But I don't know that any of them deserve your school any more than I do. The whole concept of people deserving the things they get never works out right. All I know is, I want this more than any of those accomplished kids could._

All of the air leaves the room.

Tahani keeps reading. She can't do anything else.

She's only just reached the end of the personal essay when she hears footsteps outside the door. It's enough time to shut the file away in its drawer and fall back onto her chair, her skirt perfectly laided out around her

"Thank you for waiting," the dean says. "There was something you wanted to say about Eleanor Shellstrop?"

-

Eleanor doesn't even move when Tahani comes back to the room. Her hands are clasped and her head is bowed and she's sitting with a dejected air on top of her mattress -- her stripped, bare mattress. The walls on her side of the room are likewise blank, devoid of all photos of attractive persons in various states of undress. Two enormous suitcases bulge on the floor beside her.

"Oh, lovely," Tahani says as she breezes in. "Now we can move the dressers around and sort out the furnishings and set you up in the room properly."

Eleanor turns her head up slowly. "Why would you do that?"

"I've always thought the way this furniture is laid out is a waste of space -- and, I know you're rather attached to your hunks of the month calendar, but I don't think it deserves the primacy of place you've been giving it."

"I'm...moving out."

"No, you're not," Tahani says, her voice joyful as she thinks of a vengeance well struck. "As I understand it, they're assigning us a new resident assistant, on the grounds that our present one does _not_ provide assistance to the residents." She opens the nearer of Eleanor's suitcases and finds her purloined textbooks stacked sloppily over her clothes. Perfect; now she can finally alphabetize them as she has longed to do all semester.

Eleanor watches her shelve half the books before she speaks again. "You could have gotten me kicked out. And instead you got rid of _Vicki_."

"I prefer to think that she got rid of herself, but sometimes the wheels of the system need a swift kick to the tires -- oh!" Tahani grins. "An automotive metaphor, I'm becoming so American."

Eleanor still looks as though she expects to be dragged out to the firing squad at any moment, which puts rather a damper on Tahani's good mood. "You got rid of Vicki _and you kept me_."

"Well," Tahani says. Her easy way with words has abandoned her. "I have gotten rather used to you."

Eleanor breathes out, a long shaky sound like the last note of a song reverberating out over a crowd, and then she stands up and grabs the textbook out of Tahani's hand. Throws it across the room and onto the floor, which is no way to treat property, even if it was stolen.

"Look," Eleanor says, and Tahani does look at her, hard as it is. "I'm not good at -- vagina stuff with feelings besides horny."

Tahani puzzles that out: sexual gratification plus emotions minus blind lust --

"Do you mean _romance_?"

Eleanor shudders. "Ugh, it even sounds gross, like a disease. Like I'm infected with a bunch of tiny dudes building pyramids."

"The pyramids are Egyptians," Tahani says, before she can think better of it. "Can you not tell the difference between Egyptians and Romans?"

"No. I can't. I'm dumb as rocks, and I don't belong here, I don't know who Gilbert or Sullenberger are -- "

"Sullivan -- "

"I have no standards because I don't respect myself, and I'm gross and a liar and now I made you a liar too. But." Eleanor shuts her eyes. "I didn't just kiss you because of Vicki, or because you're hot. I -- vagina plus emotions you."

Tahani is going to have to tell Eleanor that she did earn her place here after all, and she will, but first things first.

"Eleanor Shellstrop." She speaks in her authoritative command voice, which gets Eleanor to open her eyes again, but does nothing for the bleak expression on her face. She softens her tone. "You are entirely unique, like the last of a species that's going extinct, or an invitation to a royal wedding with the guest's name misspelled that ends up a collector's item, though really how hard can it be, Al-Jamil, exactly like it sounds -- "

"I feel like we're drifting away from the whole, you know, _heart-felt and terrifying confession_ part of the conversation," Eleanor says.

"You are, in the entire universe, _without precedent_. You are obstinate and outrageous and I have never met anyone like you and at several points I wish I never had, but the simple plain facts that I cannot do anything about, that I do not want to do anything about, is. Eleanor." Tahani breathes. In her own way, Eleanor has the best words of all. "I vagina plus emotions you."

"Oh, god, don't." Eleanor's nose wrinkles in disgust. "That sounds so bad when you say it."

"It sounds bad when anyone says it."

"I don't know, I think I was onto something," Eleanor starts, the familiar bravado settling around her figure.

Tahani is so relieved to see it that she gives up on waiting and takes Eleanor by the chin to kiss her.

"You," she mutters against Eleanor's lips, "are _entirely_ too short."

It shouldn't be possible to make out with someone when both of you are laughing. They make do.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this fic you can [reblog it on tumblr](http://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/181616924815/loathing-unadulterated-loathing-shinealightonme).


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